In-N-Out Burger

by Stacy Perman

  It was during this period that Rich became actively involved in the Calvary Chapel of Costa Mesa in Orange County. One of the first mega-churches, Calvary had grown from humble beginnings. It began in 1965 as a congregation of about twenty-five parishioners who met in a mobile home after its founder, Pastor Chuck Smith, broke away from the International Church of the Foursquare Gospel in Santa Ana.

  Smith was a leading figure in the grassroots “Jesus Movement.” Known to some as the “Jesus Freaks,” members belonged to a religious revival born out of the hippie counterculture of the late 1960s. The movement got its start in a storefront in San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury district called the “Living Room” and spread quickly. Down in Orange County, Smith’s early outreach to hippies spurred thousands to flock to his church. As it turned out, the Jesus Movement became a spawning ground for what was to become another Christian phenomenon: the evangelical mega-church.

  By the time that Rich became involved, the Calvary Chapel had developed into a global ministry claiming thousands of conversions. In time, the Calvary Chapel would boast over one thousand congregations as well as a television and audio ministry.

  As his involvement in the church deepened, Rich’s faith moved to the center stage of his life, permeating every aspect of it. “What is important to know about Rich,” exclaimed Jack Williams, “is that he loved the Lord. The entire foundation of In-N-Out was built on Christian values. He didn’t push Christ down anybody’s throat, but he lived it and talked it twenty-four/seven.”

  It was a heady time for Rich Snyder. For him, the 1980s were a period of extremes. Rich had invested considerable energy in building up the family business. His personal life, however, did not seem to match his business success. His weight continued to fluctuate. When the stress got to him, he harbored a secret desire to open a hardware shop in Phoenix. Approaching his thirties, Rich remained single. One of his greatest desires was to marry and start a family of his own. While a number of women expressed interest, Rich found that most of it stemmed from the fact that he was president of In-N-Out Burger; the experience left him feeling empty. Although those close to Rich described him as chronically upbeat, he had also quietly undergone what he considered to be a set of personal trials and tribulations—and those he kept close to the vest.

  Privately, Rich found solace in helping others. He remained in the lives of Kim Stites and her daughter, Meredith, who was just nine days old when her father, Wilbur, died. She called him Uncle Richie. Every Sunday, the families had dinner together, and each December Rich took Meredith on a special adventure to pick out a Christmas tree. Frequently (and often unannounced), Rich could be found visiting homeless shelters where he personally passed out blankets and other supplies. Without any kind of public announcement (and without the knowledge of his family or even the top circle at In-N-Out), Rich donated his own money to help build a chapel at the Union Rescue Mission. Located in downtown Los Angeles’s Skid Row, the Mission had aided poor and homeless families since its founding in 1891 by Lyman Stewart, the president and founder of the Union Oil Company.

  Even though he had none of his own, Rich had become particularly concerned with helping children. For him, it was almost a crusade—it came from his belief that improving the lives of children was the cornerstone to creating a better society. And Rich looked to fund outlets that shared his desire to help, supporting several groups that aided victims of child abuse, organizing several fund-raisers. He was said to have donated thousands of dollars to the Make-A-Wish Foundation, the organization that granted wishes to terminally ill children.

  Esther Snyder shared her son’s feelings. For years, she had been actively involved in supporting the Boys and Girls Clubs of America—an organization that provided children across the country with a host of educational and recreational programs—giving the group tens of thousands of dollars. She also sat on the board of the club’s Baldwin Park branch. Bob Benbow, who sat on the board with Esther for a number of years starting in the 1970s, recalled how she believed sincerely that it was important to give back. “She felt blessed,” said Benbow, an avuncular Texas transplant who arrived in Baldwin Park in 1961 to teach high school. “She had so much empathy. She was here during those days when there were so many young people living in the trailer camps. They were mostly migrants. She wanted to help.” As always, Esther was quick to donate money when asked or to supply In-N-Out burgers for any number of charitable events. “She helped in any way she could. One time she gave us $50,000 in one whack.”

  With the continued success of In-N-Out and their own personal convictions, Esther and Rich decided to formalize a vehicle for their own continued giving. In 1984, they established the Child Abuse Fund specifically to raise awareness of and channel funds to abused and disadvantaged children in the cities and counties where In-N-Out Burger did business. The foundation launched with a storewide, month-long charity drive that became an annual event. Each April, canisters were placed in all of the chain’s stores so that customers could contribute small bills and coins, with In-N-Out matching the funds up to $100,000 (later the company increased the amount of matching funds to $200,000).

  Two years after the launch, on June 6, 1986, a photograph in the San Gabriel Valley Tribune showed a beaming Rich (in his customary suit and tie) along with three In-N-Out Burger executives behind a table piled with cans, stuffed with $20,329.81. “Burger Promotion Aids Abused Children,” reads the headline.

  Within three years, the chain’s charity had grown well beyond its can collection. The Snyders added an annual golf tournament to benefit children as well. It was a huge event, usually held at a prestigious California golf club. Store managers and their associates played in teams against each other in what quickly became a widely anticipated activity. There were large sponsorships, a dinner and auction at the end of the day, and huge prizes. Over the years, the fund distributed millions of dollars.

  In addition to In-N-Out’s reputation for juicy burgers, the chain was earning the respect and admiration of the numerous civic and social groups that benefited from its largesse. They became good corporate citizens in each community where a new store opened. They regularly sent associates to pick up the In-N-Out trash that littered neighborhood streets and sidewalks. They sent cookout trailers to feed lines of firemen battling fires, offering assistance during times of need in myriad ways. And In-N-Out contributed greatly to a number of police and California Highway Patrol charities, especially those that helped the families of officers killed in the line of duty. Law enforcement held both In-N-Out and its burgers in high regard. Esther, who like Guy had a taste for speed, loved cruising down the highway. She said that the police viewed her with grandmotherly affection and kept an eye on her. Esther giggled to family and friends that despite her lead foot, she almost never received a speeding ticket.

  Not long after Rich announced his deep commitment to Christianity, he had Bible verses printed on In-N-Out’s packaging. Discreetly tucked inside the rim on the bottom of the soda pop cups, it said simply: “John 3:16” (“For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son”). Shortly thereafter, other verses cropped up unannounced on milk shake cups “Proverbs 3:5” (“Trust in the Lord with all Thine heart”); hamburger and cheeseburger paper wrappers “Revelation 3:20” (“Behold, I stand at the door and knock”); and on Double-Double wrappers “Nahum 1:7” (“The Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble”).

  The unusual marketing move was received with a combination of criticism, applause, and outright disbelief. Mixing business and religion also fueled a host of urban myths about the chain, the most common (and enduring) being that a Christian sect owned In-N-Out.* Despite the rampant speculation, the truth was straightforward; Rich decided to print the verses in an effort to share his faith through mass culture. “Hamburgers are so popular,” was how Chuck Smith Sr., Calvary Chapel’s founding minister, explained Rich’s reasoning. “He thought it was a great way to awaken people to the fact that the Bible is rele
vant and has the answers to today’s problems.”

  Around 1991, a few years after he first printed the Bible verses, Rich decided to broadcast a message of salvation on Los Angeles–area radio stations during the Christmas season. The spot opened to the familiar In-N-Out jingle, but with an orchestral rendering. A voiceover asked listeners to consider letting Jesus Christ into their lives. Although some of In-N-Out’s marketing team expressed concern the move might offend the chain’s non-Christian customers, Rich went forward. It wasn’t his intention to upset anybody, he told them, but he had a bigger picture in mind.

  Unsurprisingly, within the largely secular radio culture of Southern California, the commercial provided a short-lived holiday controversy. Some stations rejected the commercial outright, while others decided to broadcast a generic version of the spot (also provided by In-N-Out). A few stations chose to air the religious version only on Christmas day. “It gets the Christian community pretty excited seeing In-N-Out being pretty bold like that,” Roger Marsh, the general manager of KYMS-FM (a now defunct Christian station in Orange County), exclaimed at the time. His opinion was not widely shared. The ad spurred scores of calls to the burger chain. When one radio listener called to complain, telling Karen Thorton, an In-N-Out spokesperson at the time, that “not everybody that listens to you is a Christian,” she replied, “Well, that’s too bad.”

  Rich seemed impervious to the controversy he had created. “It would be a real drag to die and be up in front of God and have to say I refused to run this type of commercial,” he told the Orange County Register. “My love of Jesus is greater than my fear of what people will say.”

  His faith was the prism through which Rich viewed his stewardship of In-N-Out. “This is God’s company,” he said frequently, “not mine.”

  For Rich, everything rested on values. When it came to politics, religion, and business, he saw little distinction. And it was during this period that he became actively involved in conservative politics. Rich felt that America’s spiritual foundation had eroded, resulting in a host of social woes. The Reagan administration, with its emphasis on conservative social values, limited government, personal liberty, and America’s destined role as the leader of the free world battling the “Evil Soviet Empire” made perfect sense to Rich. “He thought that Reagan was a great president,” John Peschong, a onetime executive director of the California Republican Party and political consultant, recalled. “He thought he was somebody that was nurturing freedom, and upheld the values that this country was founded on.”

  Rich’s passion for America went beyond simple patriotism; it was visceral. “He had a real love for this country,” recalled Peschong, who got to know Rich through a shared involvement in state politics. “He had a real sense of pride. It seemed to be part of his whole entrepreneurial spirit. He was successful because the country was successful and free.” Conceivably, then, it was no coincidence that during President Reagan’s second term in office, Rich began printing the motto “The Best Enterprise Is a Free Enterprise ‘God Bless America’” on the company’s official stationery.

  Enthusiastic and filled with a deep love for Jesus, Rich was an uncommon mogul. He was dedicated to God, his family, and In-N-Out Burger. Rich felt a heartfelt responsibility to make the world a better place, and he carried that burden on his broad shoulders. It wasn’t power or gaining an edge for his company that motivated his involvement in politics, but a desire to make a significant change and his core belief that Republican Party values were the way to do that. San Clemente lawyer Ken Khachigian, a longtime party activist who had been a deputy special assistant under President Nixon and later a speechwriter for President Reagan, recalled that “Rich felt that the values espoused by the Democrats and the liberals were inimical to his own personal values and standards.”

  For Rich, America was the greatest country on earth in which to live and work, and he felt obligated to do everything he could to support it. In 1980, he backed Republican David Dreier of the San Gabriel Valley during his inaugural congressional campaign with a $1,000 contribution. A staunch conservative, Dreier established his Republican bona fides as a supporter of tax cuts and President Reagan’s anti-Communist foreign policy. Soon Rich began contributing tens of thousands of dollars to Republican candidates and causes. In time, he became a member of the exclusive “Team 100.” The group of Republican donors—also known as “T–100”—all agreed to make an initial $100,000 contribution to the Republican Party in order to join. (A minimum donation of $25,000 for three years was needed to retain membership.)

  Around 1985, Rich became acquainted with Bruce Herschensohn, a Republican commentator in Los Angeles. Herschensohn had been a speechwriter in the Nixon White House, and the two men came together over their unstinting support for the Reagan administration. “He heard one of my speeches and I loved In-N-Out Burgers and we became friends,” recalled Herschensohn. “When it came to politics, we agreed on everything.”

  In 1986, Rich encouraged Herschensohn to run for the U.S. Senate against Democratic senator Alan Cranston of California. Cranston, who had been an unsuccessful presidential candidate in 1984, was seeking his fourth term in Congress. Rich contributed $10,000 to Herschensohn’s exploratory committee and served as its chairman. According to Herschensohn, Rich was extremely influential in helping him network with the powerfully connected, especially at big functions. “I didn’t like to interrupt people, and he’d walk with me and say ‘Hello, I want to introduce you to Bruce,’” he recalled.

  Herschensohn called Rich “a vital force for my running for the Senate,” especially when it came to the act of fund-raising, an activity with which Herschensohn was particularly uncomfortable. After a few awkward incidents, Herschensohn finally told Rich that he had a problem asking people for money. It stemmed from the time his mother had chided him for asking his grandmother to buy him a chocolate Santa Claus at Christmas. As he recounted, “My mom told me that she didn’t have that much money and it hit me hard. When I told Rich, he stopped asking me to ask people for money during the campaign.” And on each of Herschensohn’s subsequent birthdays, Rich sent him a chocolate Santa Claus. “Where he got them, I have no idea, since it was September,” he laughed. “I still keep one in my freezer.”

  Esther was often found alongside her son Rich; she accompanied him to numerous political events and various In-N-Out–related functions. They frequently traveled together. She appeared to hold Rich in the same esteem as she had held her husband, Harry. He became her rock after Harry’s death, and the two shared an incredibly warm and loving relationship. Rich was particularly devoted to and protective of his mother, calling her every day. Concerned that his frugal mother continued to drive an aging car, Rich surprised her by buying a new Lexus that she discovered when she opened her garage door. Esther always called him “Richie,” and he liked to gently kid her. When he was a child, she told him to always smile, and in his adulthood, he taught her how to shake hands with people. In 1993, Rich delighted Esther by having a plaque commemorating her wartime service displayed at the U.S. Navy Memorial in Washington, D.C.

  About ten years after Harry died, Esther moved from the San Dimas home that she had shared with her husband to the suburb of Glendora six miles away. Although she loved her house, Esther moved out, largely at Rich’s insistence, who preferred that she live in a one-story house rather than aggravate her bad knees climbing stairs. In a sentimental gesture, he had the door from her childhood home installed in her new house. An affluent residential suburb of shady oak trees at the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains, Glendora was located on historic Route 66. The Snyders’ San Dimas house and the rambling property where Harry once conducted business meetings and where Esther had for a time run the accounting operations for all of their enterprises were later sold to Christ’s Church of the Valley. As part of the deal, Rich insisted that the Snyder house be left intact on the property. And there, tucked behind the boxy modern church complex, the family’s two-story stucco ho
me remains to this day.

  Officially, Esther was In-N-Out’s secretary-treasurer. Unofficially, she was the chain’s undisputed emotional center. Quiet and always smiling, soft and full-hipped, Esther favored house dresses and plain, comfortable shoes, and rarely adorned herself with jewelry and accessories or makeup. Esther saw the management team that Rich had put in place as family, calling them “my boys.” Respectfully, they called her Mrs. Snyder, and felt a genuine warmth and affection for her as well.

  While the death of her husband was devastating, those that knew Esther described her as unrelentingly positive. Rather than turn sullen, she turned to her faith in God and focused on the company that she had co-founded with Harry. Each morning, Esther drove the nine miles to In-N-Out’s Baldwin Park offices, arriving faithfully by 7:30 a.m., her brown leather briefcase always by her side. There she handled the chain’s payroll and accounting, personally signing every check by hand, a practice that didn’t end until around 1988, when the chain had grown to nearly fifteen hundred associates. At heart she was a bookkeeper; she knew every invoice and price point, and she monitored financial developments like a hawk. Even as the company grew—and the mail with it—she still opened and read each letter. Her sweet, grandmotherly demeanor notwithstanding, Esther remained razor sharp. She sat quietly in meetings, listening intently. She spoke up rarely, and when she did, everyone listened. Although she would have preferred to leave the chain largely as it was when Harry was alive, Esther unequivocally supported Rich.

  With Rich running the day-to-day operations, Esther began to focus more time on her charitable work. Her dedication was rewarded when, in 1990, Baldwin Park named its new community center after her. On weekends, she regularly drove to Costa Mesa to attend services at the Calvary Chapel. Her life was a full one. Active in the Rotary Club and the California Restaurant Association as well as the company’s Child Abuse Fund, Esther never remarried. When asked why, her nephew Joe Stannard, the son of Esther’s sister Virginia, and a financial adviser living in Springfield, Illinois, replied, “There was only one Harry.”